Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the plot in this one. Still, no copyright infringement intended, as I'm merely playing with the characters while gaining nothing from doing so. Well, nothing outside of personal satisfaction...
A/N: As the summary states, this is yet another take on Jasper's reaction to the events of Bella's birthday party. Yeah, it's been done before, but I like to explore how he may have felt, what he may have thought and ultimately, how he may have reacted. I have my reasons for this. If you're reading my other stuff, they'll become clear in time.
If it's not too much trouble, could you leave your thoughts and comments after reading? I'd love it if you did.
Love and light,
He struggled against the hands gripping him, dragging him, his mind still a swirling chaos of ebbing violence and slowly cooling bloodlust.
It was then his eyes, still black with murderous intent and unimaginable want, connected to the only man who'd ever shown him genuine love and acceptance: Carlisle, his adoptive father.
The sorrow, the shame, the sheer disappointment, he saw in those flawless golden eyes cut deeper than any scathing words or biting accusations ever could.
If he'd still had the ability to shed tears, he would have.
The message conveyed by those golden eyes — never touched by the red sin of human blood — was clear to Jasper: the elder vampire, as compassionate and forgiving as he was, had finally judged him … and found him lacking.
Once again, he'd screwed up, but this time, he knew there was no coming back.
He'd tried to kill Bella Swan. The girl the whole family loved. The girl Carlisle and Esme loved as a daughter…
As his siblings dragged him from the house and out into the cold, misty ink of a Forks, WA night, he knew there was no redemption for him.
And if he was honest, he knew there never really had been.
Not for a monster such as he…
Never for the killer, it was clear, he would always be.
Emmett and Rose turned him loose in the forest and he ran. Almost mindlessly, he ran. He wasn't sure where he would go, but he knew he couldn't go back. He couldn't face the only man he'd loved and respected enough to call Father.
He also knew he wouldn't look for his brother, Peter. After years of hellish war and the fear and uncertainty that goes with it, Peter had finally carved out a comfortably carefree life for himself and there was no way he'd interfere with that.
Nope. No Cullens and no Peter. He didn't deserve the comfort and companionship of family.
He skidded to a stop on the loose debris of the forest floor, then began to pace, his fingers almost violently raking through his riotous blond waves.
He knew exactly what he deserved, but death wasn't an option. He'd tried that before, after leaving Peter and before meeting Alice. None of the methods he'd tried had worked and he just couldn't bring himself to walk into a pyre. Nor, it seemed, could he allow another to best him in a fight. Seems when it came right down to it, his survival instinct was insurmountable.
He just could not bring himself to lose.
So now, to his distressed and chaotic reasoning, there was only one option left.
His pacing ceased, his hands falling to his sides as his spine and shoulders straightened. All warmth died in his eyes as he systematically shut down every emotion but one: cold resolve.
There was only one place where Major Jasper Whitlock belonged, and that was where it all began.
Where the monster was born…
South Texas…with his maker, Maria.
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